Daisy Rhys is trying to sneak away from a wedding reception, when Dunk McCoy—the sexy high school football coach and guy known for a good time—comes to her rescue. He's sweet, nice and keeps putting his foot in his mouth. Daisy is totally delighted. A quick rescue turns into a full on press of a different kind. Their chemistry is something different than Daisy has ever experienced but it looks like one-night was all that was meant to be.

The next morning, Dunk McCoy wakes up after the best sex dream of his life. But when his friends point out that he’s sporting a hickey, he’s adamant that his Cinderella could be perfect for him. He’s determined to find her, and his laughing, disbelieving friends are only too happy to send him on her trail.

Can he convince her that he wasn't just trying to score? Or will Dunk's attempt at true love be benched for good?

About the Author:

Zoe has been writing since she was a little girl, growing up north of Chicago. Since then, she's lived in Ohio and San Francisco, and now lives near Boulder. She has a job that she loves, but it doesn't sound exciting to anyone else. She does yoga and takes dance classes when she can. She has a husband, who reads her romances, and an amazing little girl, who is way too young to read what Zoe writes (yet). She's inspired by her family and friends, books and art, and all of the places she's traveled.

"Love a fierce, damaged, sexy-as-hell alpha male determined to protect the woman he loves? Then you're going to fall hard for Rafe. He and Diana have chemistry in spades.This edge of your seat read will have you flipping fiendishly through the pages and begging for more." -USA Today Bestselling author Lili Valente

I am the ghost that haunts your dreams. I am a liar, a protector...a killer...I am death.

You think you know my story, but you have no idea. My death was just the beginning.

I’m a dead man.

In the years since I escaped the shadow organization that owned me, my vow to protect my family is the only thing that kept me alive.

Until I meet her.

Too bad I need the monster to protect her from the demons of her past.

Too bad she’s not that innocent.

Cliffhanger Warning: I know you want the whole story right now. But that's not how things went down. And I think you know by now when it comes to ORUS, things don't always go according to f*cking plan.

(The Deep Duet unfolds over the course of two books. Deep will be followed by Deeper, releasing on January 29th.

EXCERPT:

Ovary up, bitch. This is the plan.

If she wanted her plan to work, it was going to require sacrifice, which meant getting this car down the fucking ravine and then climbing down herself. Time to put on her big-girl thong.

She gathered up her long blond hair and secured it with a ponytail holder. Time to get to work. She only had a couple of hours. She’d been following Rafe DeMarco every Tuesday for months. This was the path he’d take. It was too late for another plan. Besides she’s been setting this up for months.

She had selected the perfect spot for this. Right before the guardrail began. As an added bonus, there was a path she could use to initially climb down and a rock outcropping she could stand on to wait for him.

She’d scattered broken glass to make it look like an accident. Once the car was in neutral, she jogged around to the trunk and started to push.

Her ribs throbbed. That asshole in krav maga class had forgotten they were training and had gotten in a brutal hit. She’d have bruises for days. But it wasn’t like she could wait to heal up.

Even as the sweat popped on her brow and her body screamed, inch by inch she pushed until she finally started to get some momentum. And then managed to get car right up to the edge. With one more deep breath, she rolled the car over the edge.

The crash, boom, thud sounds echoed all through the ravine as the car tumbled front-over-end down the jagged edges of rocks. A quick glance at her watch told her she needed to haul ass. DeMarco was likely turning on to the road by now, so she didn’t have time to waste.

It was a stupid thing, but she felt a pang of hurt looking at the shiny blue paint she’d picked out, all crumpled and cracked. That was the first car she’d ever bought for herself.

She’d never had her own car before. Her father had preferred for her to be chauffeured, and her brothers had felt the same way. So she’d been excited to pick out a car on her own. And look at it now… a martyr for the cause.

“Your sacrifice will not be for nothing, young Toyota.”

The back of the car was now completely smashed and bent, so it looked like the car had skidded off the road and plunged down the embankment. She shivered. Under her coat, she only wore a thin dress, one that clung to her curves. But it was part of the plan, so she’d pushed past the mortification. It would all be worth it soon.

She clasped her forehead, rubbing at the stress ball of tension that had settled behind her eyes. Now or never.

The entire scene had been meticulously planned. With a deep breath, she scooted around the guardrail and held her breath as she started down the nearly nonexistent trail. Sand and razor-sharp rocks were more than happy to mingle with her toes and cut up her feet, but she kept moving.

The son of a bitch had better take the bait. He will. This whole plan banked on Rafe DeMarco being a decent enough human being to care about someone else potentially being hurt. Either that or curious enough to stop and see what the hell was going on.

The glass was hard to ignore. As were the random clothes she’d strewn about. She just prayed some other stray motorist didn’t decide to be a Good Samaritan. But this was an access road, rarely ever traveled.

She shoved aside the lingering feelings of doubt and concern and guilt. This man had taken everything away from her, deliberately and systematically. She was going to return the favor. And she was going to get her life back. It didn’t matter how long it took.

She shivered again when she remembered his dark eyes peering at her from behind the mask. He’d just killed her father. Two bullets in the skull. Cold. Efficient. His lips had been set in a firm, grim line.

She’d gasped from her hiding place, the fear and the shock and despair leaking through her body like a chemical spill. She still remembered the sound of his voice as he muttered a single word. “Fuck.” When he’d pulled aside the curtain, she’d been so sure he was going to kill her too. Positive he was going to murder her like he’d done her father. But he hadn’t. He’d let her live.

That was his first mistake.

Maybe he’d assumed she’d be so traumatized by the situation that she wouldn’t remember. Maybe he thought she’d be grateful he hadn’t killed her. Maybe he thought she’d forget his face, his voice, the way he made her feel.

Bad luck for him. She remembered that day in startling clarity. The day he’d turned her family upside down. Come to think of it, she needed to have a slogan for when she saw him again. Like in The Princess Bride.

“My name is Diana Vandergraff. You killed my father. Prepare to die.” She wasn’t the villain here, so she wasn’t going to have some long, drawn-out bragging speech. But he would know. She’d make sure he understood the series of events that had led to his world crumbling.

She wanted him to know.

DEEPER BLURB:

I fell in love with the boogey man.

For ten years I have plotted and planned my revenge against the man who was all shadow and death. He took the most important thing in my life away from me and I meant to return the favor.

Except, I was wrong...

**THIS IS NOT A STANDALONE, YOU MUST HAVE READ DEEP FIRST**

About the Authors:

USA Today Bestselling Author, NANA MALONE's love of all things romance and adventure started with a tattered romantic suspense she borrowed from her cousin on a sultry summer afternoon in Ghana at a precocious thirteen. She’s been in love with kick butt heroines ever since.

With her overactive imagination, and channeling her inner Buffy, it was only a matter a time before she started creating her own characters. Waiting for her chance at a job as a ninja assassin, Nana, meantime works out her drama, passion and sass with fictional characters every bit as sassy and kick butt as she thinks she is.

Nana is the author of three series. The Love Match Series includes sassy contemporary romances: Game, Set, Match and Mismatch(due out spring 2013). The In Stilettos Series includes ultra-sexy and fun multicultural romantic comedies, Sexy in Stilettos, Sultry in Stilettos and Sassy in Stilettos (Due out summer 2013). The Protectors series includes dark and sexy superhero romances, Betrayed( A Reluctant Protector Prequel), Reluctant Protector and Forsaken Protector.

The books in her series have been on multiple Amazon Kindle and Barnes & Noble best seller lists as well as the iTunes Breakout Books list and most notably the USA Today Bestseller list.

Until that ninja job comes through, you’ll find Nana working hard on additional books for her series as well as other fun, sassy romances for characters that won’t leave her alone. And if she’s not working or hiding in the closet reading, she’s acting out scenes for her husband, daughter and puppy in sunny San Diego.

NYT & USA Today Bestselling author M. MALONE lives in the Washington, DC metro area with her three favorite guys, her husband and their two sons. She holds a Master’s degree in Business from a prestigious college that would no doubt be scandalized at how she’s using her expensive education.

Independently published, she has sold more than 1/2 million ebooks in her two series THE ALEXANDERS and BLUE-COLLAR BILLIONAIRES. Since starting her indie journey in 2011 with the runaway bestselling novella “Teasing Trent”, her work has appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists more than a dozen times.

She’s now a full-time writer and spends 99.8% of her time in her pajamas.

Wednesday, January 3, 2018

Once a Disciple, forever a Disciple.After giving up eighteen months of his life for his club,the Disciples' president is finally tasting freedom again.Stone knows there's only one thing that might ever be as sweet,but she's too young, too perfect, too untouchable for a man like him.A Disciple will fight like a savage to protect what matters.Evie's life is pretty much blowing up in her faceuntil Stone finds her broken down on the side of the road.Now if only she could get him to stop being the martyrand give them a shot at what she knows they both want.It's high time this biker got the chance to let go and just cruise.

Coming January 11th

Prologue

Stone

I shoveled in a forkful of eggs thinking I was becoming a masochist.
It was high past time for me to stop dragging my ass to that diner five days a week. Christ, after that first time stopping in to grab a bite, I should have gotten on my bike and not come back.
Instead, I developed some sick fucking need to torture myself incessantly.
Across the dated countertop I sat at—the same damn place my ass was parked every time I came in—she was singing. She did that a lot. It was always quiet, just barely audible from my spot, and eaten up by the room before it could get to any of the tables.
Today, it was “Delta Dawn.”
I knew the song, though I wondered how the fuck she did. It had to be about as old as me. My mom listened to it when I was growing up, but it wasn’t a new one even then. Forty-odd years later, it was surprising a girl in her twenties would know it, let alone be singing it quietly while she worked.
In her twenties, I repeated the thought to myself the way I did every time I had it.
Even as I did, I couldn’t tear my eyes off of her. Not that that was anything unusual. How the hell she hadn’t cottoned on, I didn’t know. Then again, Geneviev was a woman the likes of which were rare these days.
Evie had told me a lot in the months I’d been planting my ass on the stool in front of her four times. The only reason I skipped three days every week was because she didn’t work them. The food she set down in front of me each time was fine, but it wasn’t what kept me coming back. It was her. She was sweet as sugar and for some reason seemed to take to me. This meant I got a lot of her sweet directed my way when I took up residence at that counter. She’d talk about what she had going on, how she was studying to be a nurse, her roommate, crazy shit that happened there at the diner. She’d talk about whatever came to her, and I’d soak up every damn word.
What she hadn’t said—and I hadn’t asked because I was smart enough to know that it was dangerous ground for my own self-control—was how the fuck she came to be the woman she was. That being, a woman who was cute, gracious, caring, funny, but more importantly, sheltered.
I knew it the first time she’d taken the gamble on talking to me, and she’d asked about my cut. It wasn’t like I never got questions about the Savage Disciples MC patch on my back. Hell, it wasn’t even like I didn’t get those from a whole lot of folks who knew nothing about the life. It was the blatant curiosity that shone in her eyes—a look I’d seen more than a few times since—that verged on wonder. Like a bunch of bikers were the stuff of fairy tales or some shit.
“Top you off, Mr. President?” the object of my obsession asked on a light, ringing laugh.
Yeah, she’d started calling me “Mr. President” when I’d explained that part of the cut to her.
Christ, she was dangerous.
I gave her a lift of my chin, which got me a smile I forced myself not to fully take in as she topped off more coffee into my mug.
“Thanks, babe.”
The words earned me another smile, this one softer.
That right there might be the biggest indicator she was sheltered.
She’d told me once, amid her talking about the nursing program she was doing, and how she wished she’d been able to start right out of high school and already be working in the job she’d wanted since she was young, that she’d just recently turned twenty-five. I wouldn’t deny that there were twenty-five-year-olds out there that’d smile at me and do a fuck of a lot more. I wasn’t in my twenties—or my thirties—anymore, but I could still get a lot of women of a lot of different ages in my bed. Patch chasers or party girls, that “President” stitched onto the front of my cut could get me a taste of a variety of flavors.
Evie wasn’t one of those.
A girl like Evie, with the air of innocence that hung around her, had no business smiling at the gruff, former marine, old-enough-to-be-her-father president of the local motorcycle club.
And that asshole had no business coming around, drinking in all the sweet that was her, and dreaming about what it would be like to get a taste.
“Time to make the rounds,” she announced, moving her lithe body around the counter to go check on the two occupied tables in the joint.
I had to curl my hand into a fist so tight my knuckles protested to keep from turning where I sat to watch her move. It was a battle I fought every time I was there. If I had to put a number on it, I’d say I was at about a forty percent success rate. The other sixty percent of the time, I’d end up engraining her courteous smiles, the flair of her waist, the way her hips moved with her steps into my head. Like I didn’t already have a million images of her stored away up there, making certain the torture I came here and subjected myself to didn’t stop when I walked out the door.
By the time Evie finished her rounds, including delivering bills to both tables, I was finished eating. I’d even gotten out the cash to cover my meal—since I ate there so often I already knew what the damage would be. I told myself again and again that I should get my ass up and just call out a goodbye as I left.
Sticking with the theme, I didn’t listen to my own good advice.
Which was why I was still sitting at that damn bar when she was back behind it, standing right across from me with a smile on her face that had turned tight. I didn’t get it, not as I watched her grab the rag she used to wipe down the tables, not as she set about cleaning the unmarred stretch of counter in front of her.
“So…um…any plans this weekend?” There was a faint, nervous tremor to the words.
“Nothing much,” I answered, keeping my voice level.
Her anxiety set me on edge. It wasn’t like her. She wiped the same spot repeatedly as she turned over whatever she was about to say.
“I was wondering—you know, if you’re not busy and all—if you’d want to…I don’t know…get dinner,” she stumbled out. “Or something.”
Fuck.
Fuck me.
Here I’d been thinking all this time that I needed to let go of this attachment. Never, not even once in the craziest shit my brain thought up when I didn’t check myself, did I think that the tables would turn.
She had no business, not a fucking lick, asking me out.
And now it fell on me to correct that problem, even when I wanted nothing more than to take her up on her offer.
Fuck.
The time had come. No more avoiding this shit. No more convincing myself it was fine.
This was the end.
“Kills me to do this, you gotta know that, but I’m gonna have to say no.”
It sounded like a line, a bullshit way to ease the rejection. I wanted to rip the words back, choke on them if I had to when I watched her face fall as they sank in. She thought I wasn’t interested. She honestly fucking thought I’d been coming in all this time for…what? The food? The atmosphere?
No, I’d been there day after day because she was the most magnificent thing I’d ever laid my eyes on and that didn’t even scratch the surface of all there was to her.
Turning down her sweet invitation burned through me in a way I knew the singed wasteland left behind would never be the same. But I couldn’t give her that. She’d push if I did, and I was too fucking weak to keep resisting.
“Oh,” she finally breathed in response. “That…that’s okay.”
It wasn’t. Not for her, with the disappointment she tried—and failed—to mask still showing in her eyes. Not for me, with the way it was actually physically painful to hold in all the words I wanted to give her to ease that damage I’d done.
It wasn’t okay in the fucking slightest, but it was the right thing to do.
“I’m not the man you should be offering that to,” I found myself saying. I should have just kept my mouth shut, taken the blow that was seeing her dejection, and gotten the fuck out. “Shit’s me to say it, but it’s the truth.”
The downturn of her lips, something I’d never seen before that moment, told me she didn’t believe a word of it even as she said, “Okay.”
As I sat there, watching her avoid looking at me, watching her chin tip down to her slender neck like she was trying to hide beneath her honey-colored hair, I fought the urge to say more. I wanted to talk until I was blue in the face if needed to make her understand, but doing so would be admitting too much.
Instead, I finally forced myself to do what I should have done months ago. I stood, slid the money closer to her for the bill, and I lied.
“I’ll see you soon, Evie.”
They were the same words I gave her every time I walked out the door, but it was the first time I said them with no intention of making them true.

Four months later, as the bars to the cell I’d be calling home for the next year and a half closed for the first time, that lie was the only thing in my head.

Drew Elyse spends her days trying to convince the world that she is, in fact, a Disney Princess, and her nights writing tear-jerking and smutty romance novels. Her debut novel, Dissonance, released in August of 2014.

When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found over-analyzing every line of a book, binge watching a series on Netflix, doing strange vocal warm ups before singing a variety of music styles, or screaming at the TV during a Chicago Blackhawks game.

A graduate of Loyola University Chicago with a BA in English, she still lives in Chicago, IL where she was born and raised with her boyfriend and her prima donna pet rabbit, Lola.

When Deputy Henri Gunther realizes there’s so much more to waitress Jenna Trippleton, his simple small-town life explodes right open. With her safety and freedom at stake, Jenna must decide whether she can put her trust in the one man who’s promised to protect her.

Sheri Velarde lives in New Mexico with her husband and their two dogs.

Being an avid reader since an early age, Sheri wanted to be a writer for as long as she can remember. She has been writing all her life, but only recently started to pursue her dream of writing for a living. Sheri specializes in all things paranormal and that go bump in the night. Her heart truly lies in exploring unknown worlds or adding the supernatural to our world. If it goes bump in the night or has magical connotations, Sheri writes about it. She writes everything from sweet romances to horror stories sure to scare you.

In her spare time Sheri is an artist, jewelry designer, independent comic writer/artist and freelance non-fiction writer. Hiking in the mountains, going to live concerts, art openings, museums, watching movies, playing games, and hosting intimate dinner parties.

Tuesday, January 2, 2018

She doesn't just want revenge.She wants him dead.Mirage is a master jewel thief but tonight she is an assassin.

~*~

His life was ruined by her lies.Now he will make her pay.He will have her on her knees, begging for forgiveness.It's time she learned why they call him, Paine.

AUTHOR NOTE: This book is edgy, dark and dirty. If the possibility of having your boundaries tested does not appeal to you, then please do not purchase.

About the Author:

USA Today and International Bestselling Author in Dark Romance

We are all attracted to the forbidden, addicted to the rush we get from reading something naughty. We love to lose ourselves in the fantasy. The powerful lord who sweeps the lady away to his remote estate to ravish her. The cowboy who takes the sassy city girl over his knee to teach her a lesson. The Scottish laird who prefers to make love in the wild. I write those romantic fantasies.

The Philadelphia schoolteacher discovers she's the heir—along with half-sisters she didn't know existed—to the Steele fortune, including a real-life cattle ranch. Instead of spending her summer break at home, she's in Barlow, Montana. And the West is as wild as she imagined, for two hot cowboys have decided to lay claim, taking her for one wild ride. And Kady? She's ready to dig in her spurs and hang on tight.

About the Author:

Vanessa Vale is the USA Today Bestselling author of over 30 books, sexy romance novels, including her popular Bridgewater historical romance series and hot contemporary romances featuring unapologetic bad boys who don’t just fall in love, they fall hard. When she’s not writing, Vanessa savors the insanity of raising two boys, is figuring out how many meals she can make with a pressure cooker, and teaches a pretty mean karate class. While she’s not as skilled at social media as her kids, she loves to interact with readers.